


Distances

by eerian_sadow



Series: Phoenix 'verse [14]
Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: Fluff, Kissing, mech smoochies, new relationships, snuggles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-25
Updated: 2010-07-25
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:03:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,821
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5837368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eerian_sadow/pseuds/eerian_sadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First Aid has questions about Mirage's intentions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distances

**Author's Note:**

  * For [purajobot935](https://archiveofourown.org/users/purajobot935/gifts), [wicked3659](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/gifts).



> Many thanks to [](http://purajo.livejournal.com/profile)[purajo](http://purajo.livejournal.com/) for allowing me to use her ficlet ~~(#10 on[this list](http://papyrus-quill.livejournal.com/57137.html) as the springboard for this.~~ i ended up stealing a bit more of the idea than i meant to, but it just worked so well. ilu, jo! 
> 
> New link, same fic! Cruise over [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/12463935/chapters/28366149) for the ficlet that inspired this piece!
> 
> for the record, Mirage is stupidly old in this 'verse. like almost as old as Ironhide. and Hound is paired with Trailbreaker. and Prowl is Not Dead, even though this takes place after the 86 movie. neither are Ratchet and Wheeljack.
> 
> written for [](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://wicked3659.livejournal.com/)**wicked3659** , since she needs some cute and fluff to balance out the sad in her own fics right now. and because she's awesome.

Snuggled securely between Blades and Groove, First Aid tried to fall into recharge. It should have been easy to; the battle had been ferocious and he had spent hours afterward up to his elbows in the internals of other mechs, trying to keep as many as he could online. It had really been one of their better battles—many mechs had been injured but no one had offlined and the Decepticons had been completely routed and sent back to their ship. He had no real reason to be suffering from insomnia, but he couldn’t get into recharge.

He couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss to the forehead Mirage had given him.

At first he had been so sure that it was simply a comforting gesture, but then he had taken a moment to process the words the other mech had spoken. It had simply been—he thought—a jest about their circumstances, but Mirage never did such things. He couldn’t stop turning that moment over in his processor.

“Just go ask,” Groove said softly. “You aren’t going to get any rest until you do.”

“Ask what?” First Aid feigned innocence, hoping his brother would leave it alone long enough to fall back into recharge.

“Whatever question it is that’s bothering you. You couldn’t recharge when you had a question when we were sparklings; that’s not going to have changed now.” His brother gave him an indulgent smile and a quick hug. “Just go. We’ll still be here and Blades will stay plenty warm without you.”

“You spoil me you know. You all recharge better if I’m here,” the medic replied. Carefully, and with Groove’s assistance, he untangled himself from Blades and climbed out of the berth.

“It’s enlightened self-interest,” his brother replied. “I won’t recharge at all with you doing all that heavy thinking.”

First Aid tried to glare, but the scout was giving him a smile that was far too innocently sweet for it to be effective. “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

“Don’t worry about it. But you better get going before Mirage holes up in his quarters.”

The medic opened his mouth to reply to his brother, but he couldn’t come up with anything to say. Clearly, Groove had been paying more attention to what was going on than he thought.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

He found the noblemech sitting in one the recliners Wheeljack had built for the rec room. They were extravagant things, especially since they didn’t really need plushly padded chairs, but they were comfortable and many of the more delicately framed mechs preferred them.

First Aid approached Mirage quietly, not really wanting to disturb the other mech while he was having a peaceful moment to himself and enjoying what appeared to be a bookfile.

“One moment,” Mirage said softly when he stopped.

First Aid waited patiently, almost wishing he hadn’t taken Groove’s advice. The nagging voice in his head reminded him that he would never have a moment’s peace until he found out what the spy had meant.

“Now.” Mirage looked up from his datapad with a smile. “What can I help you with First Aid?”

“What you said today, during the battle.” The medic settled down onto the floor in front of the chair the way he would if it was Wheeljack sitting in it. “What did you mean?”

The spy let the data pad drop to his lap and slumped back in the chair. “You caught that, did you?”

“We were very close together at the time.” First Aid folded his hands and rested them in his lap. “Please, don’t think I’m upset. I’m just confused. I don’t understand at all why you would say something like that, or why you would kiss me.”

“Especially since I haven’t shown any interest before, correct?” Mirage rubbed the plating over his optics tiredly. “It was an impulse I couldn’t restrain any longer. It was inappropriate and I apologize.”

“Inappropriate? What?” None of the medic’s confusion was resolved at all. “You were hardly inappropriate, Mirage. I admit that there could have been a better place for your actions, but—“

“No, it was highly inappropriate. First Aid, do you have any idea how old I am?”

First Aid blinked the optic shutters behind his visor in surprise. “It was inappropriate simply because you’re older than me? But Mirage, that doesn’t make any sense. Age can hardly be considered a factor in determining affection or emotional attachment. Perhaps if I were a sparkling, without a complete set of emotional subroutines and a completely developed sense of right and wrong I could see the problem, but I am a fully mature mech, even if I am significantly younger than you.”

The spy gave him a rueful smile. “And would your brothers feel the same way? I’ve seen how protective of you they are.”

“Well, it was Groove who sent me down here to talk to you tonight, rather than waiting for morning.” The medic retracted his face mask so the noble could see his grin. “And they are protective, but they also prefer that I have a happy existence.”

“Aid… I’m sorry; may I call you by your familiar name? I know we don’t know each other particularly well and—“

First Aid darted up and laid a finger across the older mech’s lip components. “Stop that. If you keep apologizing for everything you think will offend me, we’ll never get anywhere. No, I don’t mind if you use my familiar name; we’re all friends here.”

Mirage gave him another of those rueful smiles. “Not all of us. And that’s another reason I shouldn’t be trying to force myself into your world. Mechs that associate with me get attached to my bad reputation.”

“I can hardly worry about something like that. You’ve met Blades, haven’t you?”

Despite himself, Mirage laughed. “He does seem to have a reputation that is about as sterling as Cliffjumper’s. At least I’m distrusted because of where I come from, not because of the stupid things I’ve done since I joined the army.”

The medic grinned in return. “He does fail to think about the consequences—and frighteningly often. I keep hoping that he will learn with experience.”

“And what about you, Aid?” Mirage took the younger mech’s hands and squeezed them gently. “Would this even be an experience you would want to learn from?”

“Of course it would.” He squeezed back, just as gently. “In my time online, you have been nothing but kind, courteous and _caring_ to me and my brothers—even when Blades has done something phenomenally stupid. And Hound likes you. If that isn’t enough to make me overlook Cliffjumper’s accusations and the rumors floating around the base, I don’t know what could be.”

“Hound is a true friend and an excellent judge of character; I have no idea what he sees in me.” The spy smiled again—a real, happy smile this time. “But it seems that you see it too.”

“Yes, I believe I do.” First Aid returned the smile. “Now are we done arguing or must we do more of that before I can have a real kiss?”

“Even if I keep arguing, you aren’t going to let me win.” Mirage tugged on the medic’s hands, trying to pull the other mech up from his place on the floor. “But you’ll have to come up here if you want that kiss.”

First Aid was more than happy to let Mirage pull him off the floor and into his first real kiss.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Hot Spot had been worried when First Aid wasn’t in any of the Protectobot’s berths the next morning. It never surprised him to find the medic’s berth empty—they all liked to cuddle with him, especially after the kind of close call he’d had during the battle the day before—but it was never a good sign when he wasn’t anywhere in their suite at all. He was so preoccupied with worrying as he stormed to the medbay—fully expecting to find his brother slumped across his desk in recharge—that he brushed off Groove’s assurances that the medic was fine.

His worry ratcheted up a notch when he didn’t find First Aid in the medbay—and was told by an overly cheerful Perceptor that the medic hadn’t been in for his shift yet. “We have to find him! What if he’s hurt? Or kidnapped? Or—“

“Spot, you have to calm down,” Groove said. “We would know if something was wrong, and you know that. I’ve been trying to tell you since you got up that I know where he is and that he’s fine.”

“You have?” Hot Spot’s felt amazingly relieved. “Where is he?”

“With Mirage.” The scout’s matter of fact tone put the gestalt leader on edge again.

“Why is he with _Mirage_?”

Groove shrugged. “Guess they probably got to talking. Aid’s not a baby, Spot; he can go spend time with mechs who aren’t his brothers.”

“It’ll be good for him,” Streetwise added. “He needs other friends. We can’t watch out for him all the time.”

Hot Spot sighed in defeat. “And I suppose he’ll come home on his own.”

“Of course he will.” Groove put an arm around his leader’s waist and hugged him. “Now, let’s go meet Blades in the rec room before he drinks our rations too.”

That got a half-sparked smile out of Hot Spot. “He would, just so see if Prowl really would throw him in the brig for being overcharged on duty.”

“And we know Prowl would, so let’s go.”

Groove was relaxed as they made their way to the rec room—an obvious contrast to Hot Spot, who was still tense as a piano wire. Streetwise walked along next to them, talking about enough random subjects to give Bluestreak a run for his money in an effort to distract their team leader.

The three of them froze when they stepped into the rec room. Hot Spot tensed even further—if that was possible—under Groove’s arm. Streetwise gaped and Groove smiled.

First Aid sighed and snuggled more comfortably into Mirage’s side.

 _Don’t bother them,_ Blades commed. _Mirage says he only went into recharge about two hours ago. And Mirage went into recharge right after I got here._

 _But…_ Hot Spot frowned and reached out toward First Aid. _That’s Mirage! You know what they say about him!_

 _Since when have you listened to base gossip?_ Groove steered the larger mech toward the table Blades had picked. _Besides, did you see that smile on First Aid’s face?_

 _He’s smiling?_ The gestalt leader’s head whipped around so he could check.

 _Oh yeah,_ Streetwise confirmed. _Like a kid with a new toy. I really think you should leave this alone, Spot._

Hot Spot sighed in defeat. Again. _He does look happy, doesn’t he?_

 _Yep,_ Groove agreed.

 _Fine._ Hot Spot took his seat. _But Mirage better not even think about breaking his spark._  



End file.
